A Musketeers Christmas Carol
by Questfan
Summary: A different spin on Dickens' classic tale. Athos is left unconscious in the snow and faces three things that challenge his attitude towards Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

**Life has been a little interesting of late and this idea has been nibbling at the edges of my brain for a while. I know Dickens may well roll in his grave and I apologise profusely to him and his fans, but his story makes a wonderful basis for playing with the Musketeers once again. I plan to have this out in a few chapters and hope to be done for Christmas.**

**A Musketeers Christmas Carol**

Athos pulled his hat down low over his face and tugged his cloak a little tighter. Snow swirled against the wall in little eddies as the wind had finally dropped off. Drifts of snow heaped up against the buildings and icicles hung from the exposed beams. What little light extended from the tavern door, reflected off their sides and they glistened in the dark. If he had been in a better mood he may have noted the beauty of the scene before him. Instead, he just thought that the snow merely blanketed the dirt of his adopted home. The sourness of the thought made him want to spit, but he refrained from doing so, only because a young lady chose that moment to turn the corner towards him. She shuffled slowly through the snow, her arms clasped tightly around her tiny frame. He couldn't be sure of her age, but would have guessed sixteen or so.

Athos watched as she looked up at him. Her face reflected something akin to fear and he briefly wondered why as he had made no threatening move towards her. As she stepped closer, he noted a deep bruise on the side of her face. Blood had trickled down her cheek, but the cold weather had stopped it in its tracks. Somebody had clearly struck her and he felt anger welling up from inside him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had removed his cloak and stepped towards her. She shied away from him and he paused, unsure what to do.

"I mean you no harm, mademoiselle. I merely thought you look very cold."

The girl stared at the stranger before her. It had been a very long time since anybody had cared what she felt. She looked longingly towards the cloak being offered to her, but hesitated to see what strings were attached to it. After all, most men of her acquaintance expected something in return.

Athos took a step closer and slowly wrapped the cloak around her thin shoulders. He could feel her shivering under his hands as he laced the cloak closed. She dipped her head in appreciation and he saw tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. She screwed them closed and clutched at the edges of the cloak. She finally opened her eyes and looked down at what had been placed around her. Suddenly recognition flashed in her eyes as she took in the royal blue fabric. She gasped as she looked back up and saw kind eyes watching her. The man's breath on her face smelled of wine and she felt a momentary snarl of fear again. It was always the drunks who treated her the worst and the injury to her face had come from just such a man, only an hour earlier. The man in front of her smiled slightly and she felt herself gradually relaxing into the warmth of the cloak. It smelled of horse and tavern smoke and something else. As she pulled it closer around her face she realised it smelled like her father. The realisation hit her harder than she had anticipated as the image of the man who had died so many years ago, danced in front of her face.

Athos watched as the young girl's face screwed up in pain and he wondered if she was injured in any way other than her face. Before he could ask, she schooled her face into a neutral mask before smiling at him.

"Thank you, monsieur. You are most kind. If you would walk with me to my home, I can return your cloak to you."

Athos nodded in agreement and held out an arm for the young girl. She smiled shyly as she grasped hold of his forearm and the two of them headed out into the deep snow once again.

In an effort to alleviate the silence between them, she mentally scrambled for something to say.

"Do musketeers have duty on Christmas day or do you get tomorrow off to celebrate?"

Athos barely contained a scowl at the mention of the day. He had gone to the tavern alone to avoid the Christmas preparations going on around him. He had no interest in the day as it simply brought up too many painful memories of happier times. As happened every year, he requested a duty shift and Treville always obliged.

"I am on duty tomorrow."

The girl nodded silently. Of course the King would still need his men, no matter what the date was. It was not a day for celebrating for her either and she concentrated on keeping her footing in the snow. They continued in silence until she pointed towards a building up ahead.

"That is my door there."

Athos refrained from comment, as the door was nothing more than a latched entryway to a cellar. If that was where the girl lived, then it hardly counted as a home. She was about to unlock the latch when her face distorted in fear. Athos barely had time to turn and look behind him as he took in two men coming towards them.

"You! Stop!"

The girl blanched in fear and Athos had his sword in his hand before he knew it. The two men stumbled towards him in the snow and both of them had daggers drawn. They hesitated beyond range and waited to see who the stranger was.

"Tina! Alain will not allow this! You cannot take work without his knowledge or paying him your dues. Now, get back to the inn!"

Athos pushed the girl behind him as understanding dawned. The two men were hired thugs and the girl behind him was a prostitute. While he could easily understand how they thought he was a client, the idea revolted him. If either of them had been the one responsible for the marks on the girl's face, he would happily return the favour.

"This young lady is under my protection and not going anywhere with either of you."

The older of the two smirked as he twirled his blade in his hand. He glanced across at his partner and shook his head.

"You hear that? She's under his _protection!_"

Athos watched as the two of them shared a laugh, but he did not move.

"And, ahh, who are you to be offerin' any kind of services to Tina here?"

"My name is Athos, of the King's Musketeers."

The answer was quiet and low and those who knew him, knew that was Athos' most dangerous tone of voice. Unfortunately for them, neither of the men knew him.

"Well Tina, just because your clientele has gone up a notch, don't think you can get out of payin' your dues."

"I am not a client. I am merely escorting the young lady home."

"Lady! She ain't no lady! But I'm guessin' you noticed that."

Athos ignored the comment and motioned for Tina to open her door.

"Time for you to leave, gentlemen."

The threat in the simple comment was crystal clear and the two men began to back away down the alley. Athos still held his sword in clear view and he watched intently as the two men retreated. As they reached the end of the alley, one of them called out again.

"He always collects his dues."

Tina's hands were shaking as she pushed her door open. She began to unlace the heavy cloak draped around her shoulders. Athos waited as she seemed about to speak, but she finally just pulled the cloak free and thrust it towards him.

"Thank you, monsieur. Your kindness is truly appreciated."

He nodded in acknowledgement as he wrapped the cloak back around himself. The young girl was heading into a dark cellar and he felt his heart lurch. Everything in him wanted to take her by the arm and walk her away from the dingy place she called home. He sighed as he knew that it was not possible to save every lost soul in the city and Paris was full of lost souls. Himself included.

The snow clung to his boots as he trudged back up the alleyway, leaving the girl to her fate. The heaviness of his previous mood descended again and he once again remembered why he didn't like Christmas. Too many people tried to force mirth and good cheer over a day that was no different to any other.

He was too caught up in maudlin thoughts and sour memories to notice movement in the shadows until it was too late. He reached for his sword and managed to pull it half way clear of its sheath before the man in front of him laughed at him.

"Consider this, us collectin' our dues!" The smirk on his face became a grin as he looked over Athos's shoulder.

Athos never saw the blow coming that connected with the back of his head and he sank silently into the snow. His last coherent thought was that nothing good ever came out of Christmas any more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those brave enough to indulge me in this story. I appreciate your comments and reviews.**

**Treville**

Athos pulled himself upright in the snow and rubbed at the back of his head. In spite of a blow that had clearly rendered him unconscious, there was no pain. He felt the irritation growing that he had failed to pay attention well enough to be caught in such a manner and cursed his own stupidity. He looked around, but could see no sign of his attackers. He patted himself down and was surprised to note that nothing was missing. It took a few minutes for him to realise that for some reason, the snow beneath him did not feel cold. He reached out a hand and pulled a handful of powder closer to his face. It felt like snow and acted like snow as he dropped it from his hand, but there was no chill. He looked around to get his bearings and found he was still in the alleyway he had walked down only a short time before. At least he assumed it was only a short time earlier as his body had not grown stiff with cold. Once again, he pushed a hand into the snowdrift and felt an unexpected sensation, as the snow was most definitely, not cold.

Suddenly an odd thought registered and he found himself hastily pushing himself to his feet.

"You are not dead."

Athos spun on his heel towards the voice he knew so well.

"Captain? What are you doing here?"

Treville smiled at him and moved closer.

"I came to tell you a few things. Things that you really need to know, Athos. The first thing you must understand, is that you are not dead."

Athos stared blankly at him as he had not voiced the question in his head. How did Treville know what he had been thinking? And more importantly, why was the snow not cold?

"Tell me Athos, why do you request a duty roster every single Christmas day? Your friends take their rotations, but you … you act as though Christmas is just another day to you. Like it holds no significance to you."

Athos stared at the Captain and felt a wave of fury rising from his boots and up into his chest. Treville had never questioned him before and had left him to his privacy. So why was he now bringing up what should have stayed buried? Not even Aramis or Porthos knew the reason for his aversion to Christmas and they had been content to wait for his explanation in his own time. Not that that time would come any time soon. There was no way he would reveal his greatest failings to his two friends. He felt sure they would both reject him if they knew the truth of what kind of man he really was.

"Athos?" The Captain leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

Athos scowled at him as he shook his head. "Christmas does _not_ hold any significance for me. It _is_ just another day."

Treville studied the man in front of him, but remained silent. Finally he pushed away from the wall and stepped towards Athos. "Christmas once was a favourite time of year for you. You took pieces of thick bark and rode down snowdrifts with your brother. Your mother made spiced wine and fruit pies. Your father sang while you sat around a roaring fire. Your wife also …."

"Stop!" Athos' face looked like thunder as he tried to understand why his captain seemed intent on torturing him. Those treasured things were long gone and so were the people. The memories only stirred up long-buried pain. "What do you know of my past? And why are you being so cruel?"

"Cruel? My intent is not to be cruel."

Treville laid a gentle hand on Athos' shoulder.

"You seem to think that it is better if you are not around on Christmas day. That your friends somehow benefit from your absence."

"I am not good company on Christmas day. It is better for them that I am not there."

"You truly believe that don't you?" Treville tilted his head slightly as he watched Athos clench his fists and try to get a grip on his wayward emotions.

Treville waved a hand towards the far wall of the alleyway and Athos stared in disbelief as light began to well up from the ground and flood the wall as if it were daylight.

"What is this trickery?" Athos stared at Treville and once again realised that he was not cold. Something very strange was going on and he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling with unease.

"Just watch." Treville nodded towards the wall as it began to melt away and a scene began to play out before them, as real as if they were actually there.

_A child ran down a narrow alleyway, followed closely by a second. Their cheeks were rosy from exertion and their breath misted around their faces as they stopped and laughed. Suddenly snow exploded over the pair of them as balls of powder were lobbed from somewhere behind them. Both children ran to take shelter behind a large pine tree and hastily began scooping up snow and rolling it into balls. The joy on their faces as they lobbed snowballs back at their attacker was evident. Minutes later a man strode into the clearing and the children threw the last of their ammunition towards him. The man raised his arms in mock surrender and the two boys charged towards him as best they could in the snow. When the man was within reach of them he lunged towards one of them and hoisted him into the air. The boy squealed and wriggled as though trying to escape before the man wrapped him into a bear hug. The other boy ran across the clearing towards an older boy and began dodging snowballs all over again._

Athos stared at the scene; a sense of something indefinable tugging at him. Suddenly he realised what it was. The younger child looked familiar. Dark hair peaked out from under a worn woolen scarf and the cheeky grin on the child's face was unmistakable. He turned towards his captain with his mouth hanging open. The necessary words would not form in his mind. He knew, without question that he was watching d'Artagnan as a child and yet he had no idea how he knew that.

Finally he managed to shake off whatever was holding his tongue captive and he pointed a finger accusingly at Treville.

"What is the meaning of all this? How is this even possible?"

"This is not what you think Athos. I am not who you think I am."

Athos stared at the man in front of him and slowly registered that the scene had faded away as if it had not even been there.

"I am losing my mind!" he muttered to himself.

"No, you are not. But you may yet lose something very important to you. I have come to show you a Christmas that is long past and to reveal something you need to know. D'Artagnan had a family once that loved and protected him. You were not there."

Athos stared at him as the words seemed to have a greater significance than he could grasp. Of course he was not there!

"You need to remember that."

Athos was about to respond when the man in front of him began to fade away. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked rapidly, but suddenly Treville was gone. Where he had stood only moments before, the snow was now unblemished. The light that had illuminated the wall was nowhere to be seen and Athos wondered if he had somehow drunk so much that he was now hallucinating. He did not recall having drunk anything like that much wine, but his mind would not supply any other possible explanation. Certainly, what he had just witnessed was not logical or explainable by any other means.

He staggered back against the wall of the nearest building and tried to steady himself. Once again, he noted that the snow around him did not feel cold and the air he breathed in had no chill to it.

"I am losing my mind!" he whispered as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Of course I wasn't there! How could I have possibly been there?"

Athos had no idea how long he stood there, trying to bring his swirling thoughts into order. Suddenly he felt the hairs on his neck tingling again and he looked up, half expecting to see Treville, or whatever the apparition was, had reappeared.

Instead, he found himself staring across the alley at Porthos. There were no tracks in the snow that showed his friend's entry into the area and he swallowed hard as he stared at the man before him.

"Are you real?" he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you once again for your lovely reviews and comments. I hope to have this finished by Christmas, but still have some baking to do first. Almond bread or write my story? Tough choice. I know ... make almond bread and eat it while writing my story!  
><strong>

**Porthos**

Athos stared at the man's features and tried to take in the details that defined his friend, trying to determine if it actually was Porthos. The plait of thick hair, held back by a band of fabric. The set of his shoulders. His hands firmly planted on his hips. The smirk that was all Porthos, plastered across his face. The twitch of his lip as he watched Athos observing him.

After the episode with what he had believed was Treville, Athos was not yet convinced that what he looked upon was really Porthos. The image's boots sunk deep into the snow and he seemed solid enough. And yet there were no tracks leading to where he now stood.

Athos shook his head, blinked rapidly and tried to find the words to ask the myriad of questions flooding his brain. His tongue felt heavy and thick in his mouth and his hands hung uselessly by his side.

"Why is the snow not cold?"

Porthos grinned at him.

"That's your first question?"

Athos lifted an eyebrow as if to say that it was a valid question to ask. The fact he had a thousand more behind it was beside the point. He needed at least one of his questions satisfactorily answered.

Porthos nodded at Athos' resolute face and smiled. "It doesn't need to be cold here."

Athos felt his irritation stepping up a notch and once again, the nape of his neck warned him that something was not right. Something beyond the misbehaving snow. He slowly waved a hand around in a gesture that encompassed their immediate area.

"And where, pray tell, is _here,_ that it doesn't require snow to be cold? I'm not sure that you have the power to change the laws of nature just yet!"

The comment came out in a firm tone, but it belied the doubt in Athos' mind. Somebody certainly had the power to change things that were not changeable in his experience. Snow could not be anything other than cold, if it were to be called snow.

"It doesn't really matter where here is. What does matter is where _he_ is."

"Where who is?" The words had no sooner left his mouth than Athos knew exactly who they were referring to. Once again, he had no idea how he knew. He just did and his heart dropped into his mouth.

Porthos frowned at him. "Why do you keep asking the wrong questions?"

Athos felt his anger rising again and he began to wade across the snow towards Porthos. He reached out to the man in front of him and grasped the front of his doublet. It felt solid under his hand and he tried to hide the uncertainty that threatened to spill over.

"Then tell me what the right question is!" He pulled his hands back and clenched his fists in frustration.

"Why don't I show you instead?"

Before he could object, Athos watched as the scene before him rippled and changed. Where moments earlier had been a cold, dark alleyway, he found himself looking into the tavern room of one of the inns near the garrison. Without thinking, Athos stepped forward. He stared in dismay as he watched d'Artagnan slumped in the corner of a room, nursing a drink. The image slithered back from him and he stopped in his tracks.

"What is this? What is wrong with him?" Athos looked towards Porthos. The man simply shrugged as he nodded towards the scene.

"This is his Christmas – the one that is coming with the dawn."

Athos glanced up to the sky and could see no evidence that dawn was anywhere near. He suddenly realised he had no idea what time it actually was. The sounds of the tavern began to swirl around him and he looked back to see Porthos step into the scene. He tried to follow, but his feet would not move. It was almost as if they were frozen into the snow. As he began to struggle against it, his attention was pulled back at the distress he could hear in d'Artagnan's voice.

"_Drink up, my friend. That face is far too long for this festive day!" Aramis waved a glass towards d'Artagnan and tried once again to draw a smile from the young man._

"_I'm sorry, Aramis, but I'm afraid I have no festive spirit tonight. I think it's time for me to get some sleep and perhaps tomorrow will bring a better day."_

_Before Aramis could object, d'Artagnan had pushed away from the table and was heading for the tavern door. Porthos was half way back to the table with another bottle of wine when he noticed the young man was leaving. He looked across at Aramis and frowned._

"_What'd you say to make 'im leave like that?" He thumbed a hand towards the door as he slid back into his seat._

_Aramis ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he reached for the wine bottle. _

"_This is his first Christmas in Paris." He looked at Porthos as if the logical conclusion to that comment should be obvious. It took a few seconds before Porthos screwed up his face and slammed a hand on the bench._

"_And his first without his father!"_

Athos felt his stomach knot as the comment drew him back to the present. He had not even considered the impact that such a thing would have on the young man. He'd been too caught up in his own misery as the date approached. Each year without his wife and the weight of guilt only made the festivities seem more and more obscene and he simply withdrew further from them.

Once more he looked up and watched as the scene shimmered before his eyes. Suddenly Porthos was back by his side and he noted that the tavern was gone. In its place was the dark interior of the garrison stables.

_D'Artagnan leaned against the neck of his horse and tried desperately to control his breathing. As he savoured the familiar scent of his horse, he reached out a hand and began to stroke the animal's neck. The simple, repetitive gesture finally began to help to rein in his tumbling emotions and eventually he felt his heart rate settle to normal._

"_Why did he have to leave?" The words carried across the space and Athos flinched at the depth of sorrow in them. _

"_Why does everybody eventually leave me?"_

_The horse knickered softly in response to his voice and d'Artagnan buried his face into its mane. The familiarity of the one thing of value he had left from his former life brought tears to his eyes._

"_Even Athos didn't want to stay today. I asked him, but he just left, without saying a word."_

_Finally d'Artagnan let go of the horse's mane and slipped down beside him in the stall. He pulled hay up into a high pile before leaning back into it and reaching for his cloak. Once he was satisfied with how the cloak covered him, he settled back and closed his eyes._

Athos stared as the scene faded away and once again, he was confronted with the dark and gloomy alley. His heart was pounding in his chest and he found himself blinking back tears. He angrily swiped a hand across his face and turned towards Porthos.

"What was that?" he demanded. The coldness in his voice did nothing to change the expression on Porthos' face, however the big man simply stared back at him, as if evaluating his response.

"That is where the lad will wake up on Christmas morning. Alone. Grieving. And did I mention … alone?"

"But he is not alone! He has many friends at the garrison, including all of us!" Athos felt the words of protest falling out of his mouth, even as his heart registered the emptiness of them. The truth was, he had left the boy alone.

"You saw before how 'e grew up."

Porthos waited as Athos confirmed his comment.

"Treville showed me." For a split second Athos wondered at the absurdity of the whole conversation as it was most definitely not Treville and despite appearances, this was_ not_ Porthos. He shrugged slightly and continued on, eager to find the answers to his multitude of questions.

"The lad was loved and had a family around 'im. Neighbours. Friends. Folks who watched out for 'im. A home. What's left of all that?"

Athos visibly sagged against the nearest wall.

"Nothing," he whispered.

"Exactly. And tonight … when 'e needed you most …. you were not there."

Athos stared at the ground and felt his heart drop into his boots. The words were true and he felt a wave of shame wash over him. He had no idea how long he stood and stared at the snow around his feet, but finally the silence registered in his thoughts. He looked up and glanced around as Porthos was nowhere to be seen. The snow across from him was smooth and even, with no sign of bootprints anywhere.

Once again, he noted that there was no chill in the air. He pushed the thought aside as his mind drew him back to the anguish in d'Artagnan's voice.

"_Why does everybody eventually leave me?"_

His heart thundered in his chest as he considered the words. The lad had lost first his mother and then his father. His home had been razed to the ground and since he would never live there again, he had also lost his neighbours. The final and most heart-wrenching part was the fact that Constance was also lost to him. The overwhelming sense of loss threatened to drop him to his knees. The final nail in his chest was the realisation that he had chosen that day to walk away when the lad needed him most.

You were not there.

The words bit into him.

Before he could decide what to do, he noted a sound nearby.

"Aramis?"

By this time, Athos had already determined he did not care to know the details of how or why his friends were visiting him in such an odd fashion. He simply wanted to return to the garrison and speak with d'Artagnan. The sight of his friend slouched against the wall across from him did not bring comfort as it usually would.

His normally cheery friend looked distressed.

"Aramis? Are you unwell?"

"I am afraid my heart is quite broken. And by the end of this night, yours may be too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Who needs almond bread anyway? Must … finish … story!**

**Aramis**

Athos felt like his chest was already being crushed under a lead weight. The sorrow on his friend's face made him swallow hard and force himself to stand upright. There was no room to fall apart now as he was needed. The self doubt and pity from earlier fell away as he stared at Aramis. His brother looked distressed in the extreme.

"What is it? What has you so concerned?"

The question came out even and calm, although Athos had to clench his hands together to keep himself steady.

Aramis pushed himself away from the wall and once again, Athos noted there were no tracks leading to where he stood. Athos shook his head slightly in irritation. If this were just a dream, he still needed to reach the answers he so desperately sought after. He did not have time to worry about petty details such as the snow.

"Why is your heart broken my friend?"

Aramis looked at him with tears in his eyes.

"Because I see what is yet to come."

The depth of sadness in the words made Athos clench his hands tighter. Aramis was always the most dramatic of the group, but he never overplayed the serious side of things. If anything, he would often underplay it to bring hope and comfort in dire circumstances. The fact he was barely holding back tears as he stared across the space, chilled Athos to the core. He suddenly was struck by the irony that the snow and air held no chill, but his friend's demeanor almost stopped his breath in his chest.

"And what is yet to come?" The words came out quietly, as Athos debated if he wanted to know. Still, he had never backed away from anything in his life and something told him he could not afford to back away from this. The back of his neck was tingling and he absently scrubbed a hand across his neck.

Aramis waved a hand slowly across in front of him and Athos stepped back as yet another tableau opened up in front of him. He briefly wondered at how easily he had come to accept the fact of the scenario before becoming absorbed in what he saw before him.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he saw a graveyard, covered in snow. The area was clearly uncared for as what few headstones there were, were leaning at various angles or toppled over on the ground. A light sprinkling of snow lay across the ground where previous snow had melted a little and turned to slush. The ground was cold and harsh and unforgiving and Athos felt his knees giving out as he read the inscription before him. He looked again at the date and noted it was barely a year hence.

"No! This cannot be!"

He turned towards Aramis and pointed a finger at the scene.

"This cannot be!"

Aramis shook his head sadly.

"It is what will be. This is yet to come."

"No!" Athos roared at the man standing across from him. This was not his friend. This was some kind of monster that seemed intent on torturing him.

Aramis' eyes were moist with tears as he watched Athos rage.

"You were not there."

Suddenly Athos stopped as if he had been physically struck. The simple words had come at him earlier, but now they had an added weight and accusation. He stared at Aramis and tried to respond.

"You were not there Athos. You did not stop him."

Athos sank to his knees and tried to stop the shakes that claimed his whole being.

"How?" The single word could not begin to bring out all that his mind was throwing at him, but it was a start. He looked up at Aramis and felt the war inside him. He needed to know, but simultaneously did not want to know.

"That first Christmas … the first one he spent in Paris … it changed him. Hardened him somehow. He never really spoke about it, but we all knew. He pushed us away. Athos … he always followed your example … even the bad ones."

Athos felt his chest clench at the truth of the words. He had once told d'Artagnan that they were more alike than he knew. The lad was gifted and generous and reckless. His emotions ruled his head and Athos had tried to train that trait out of him. It seemed he had done too good a job of his lessons.

"He was heartbroken and angry. Never a good combination." Aramis watched as Athos simply nodded in agreement.

"As time went on, instead of healing from his broken heart, it grew worse. He lost his way and none of us could reach him. It reminded me of Marsac all over again."

Athos noted the grief in the words as Aramis spoke of his fallen friend. The man he believed he had failed to save.

"He became more reckless in his actions until eventually Treville was forced to discipline him. He was removed from the duty roster and confined to the barracks. He was warned he could be stripped of his commission."

Athos stared in disbelief. He could not imagine things getting so bad that Treville would resort to that.

"One night, after drinking too much, he left the barracks. Nobody knew until the next morning." Aramis had tears freely falling down his face as he struggled to relay the rest of the story.

"He died … alone … in a back alley. Nobody was ever brought to justice, but there were whispers it was a red guard."

Athos dropped his face into his hands and tried to hold himself together. Finally he looked up and stared at the scene laid out before him. The graveyard was covered deeper in snow and somebody sat huddled against the gravestone. He knew, without having to wonder, he was watching Aramis, somewhere in the future, mourning the loss of their mutual friend.

"You were not there, Athos. You did not stop him."

Once again the words echoed in his head as he felt the depth of the accusation against him. The words were true. He had failed. Suddenly a glimmer of hope raised up and he looked up to where Aramis was still standing with hands crossed against his chest.

Athos struggled to his feet and stepped closer to his friend. He waved a hand towards the fading scene.

"This … you said this is yet to come. How do I stop this?" He reached for Aramis' shoulders and panicked as his hands passed right through them. The man before him began to fade. Tears still streaked his friend's face as the last vestiges of his image faded away.

He looked around desperately and shouted into the empty space.

"How do I stop this?"

Suddenly and without any warning, Athos could feel the cold of the snow seeping into his boots. He looked down at his hands and felt them turning icy. Grey fog began to close in at the edges of his field of vision and he felt a heaviness pulling him under.

_You were not there._

The words taunted him as the world around him turned black.

* * *

><p>Tina pushed open the door against the buildup of snow and barely managed to squeeze through the gap. A light blanket of snow lay across the ground and she stepped out into it hesitantly. In the early morning light she could see that nobody else had come that way yet and she smiled at the scene before her. Untouched snow was one of the few joys of Paris that always lifted her heart. It covered the dirt and grime and gave her hope that all things could be made new somehow. She hesitated briefly before stepping out into it, needing to get to her destination, but not wanting to destroy the beauty before her.<p>

Finally she stepped away from the door and began making her way down the alley. Ahead of her, a mound of snow caught her attention. Blue peaked out from underneath it and she rushed forward to see what it was. She gasped in surprise as she recognised the kind man from the night before. His face was blue and unmoving and she quickly surmised that Alain's men had caught up with him.

"Mon Dieu! Monsieur, wake up! Please, wake up!" She shook his arm and tugged at his doublet, but got no response. Finally she hesitantly reached a hand inside the collar of his shirt and felt for any sign of life. She breathed a sigh of relief as she found a beat under her fingertips. It was slow, but definitely there.

She glanced up and down the alleyway and debated what to do. He was too heavy for her to lift and nobody in these parts cared much for strangers. Suddenly an idea came to mind and she reached over to pull his cloak a little closer around his face.

"I will return, monsieur. Please, wait for me."

Tina pulled her meagre cloak about herself and ran as best as she could through the Christmas morning snow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alas, still no almond bread, but my story is done. It's Christmas Eve here and I promised myself I would have this done before Christmas. I'm off to make my treats and hope you enjoy the conclusion. Thank you for all those who tagged along for the ride.**

**Athos**

_You were not there. _

_You chose not to be there._

_The voice echoed in the dark and he could not pinpoint its location. The words held no emotion in their delivery and yet they evoked intense emotions within him._

_You let him die!_

_The last words came not from the disembodied voice, but from his own heart. _

_Right now, you have a choice to live or die. You can choose not to be there anymore. To experience no more pain._

_Or you can get up and find your way back to them. _

_You can fight for him._

* * *

><p>Aramis pulled his cloak about him as he wandered out into the early morning snow. No matter his age, he loved Christmas morning in Paris. The snow blanketed everything and the dirt and grime of his beloved city was washed clean on this most holy of mornings. He raised his crucifix to his lips and smiled upwards as he considered the quiet scene before him. He noted a few of the men beginning to stir and spread out across the garrison and he wondered how many of them had been roused by the smell emanating from the scullery. Fresh baked bread and hand churned butter was always a good way to start any day, but on Christmas morning, Serge always outdid himself. He wondered if the old man actually slept on Christmas Eve as he seemed to produce a mountain of food from nowhere. Before he could make his way to find his breakfast, Aramis noted a young girl struggling to wade through the snow into the garrison. The look of terror on her face had him rushing towards her.<p>

"Monsieur! Help me, please!"

Aramis grasped her shoulders in an effort to steady her.

"What is it? Are you injured?" He was already preparing to check before she brushed his question aside.

"No! But there is a musketeer who is. His name is Athos and he …"

Aramis felt the blood drain from his face. If Athos had sent someone and not come himself, then things were dire.

"Where is he?"

It was clear from the man's face that he knew who Athos was and the girl rushed to explain.

"He is injured. Unconscious. And monsieur … he's been out in the snow since late last night."

The anguish in her voice sounded like guilt, but Aramis had no time for that. He swung away from her and began shouting orders. The girl watched in amazement as men came running and one brought a horse from the stables. Soon three men stood expectantly in front of her and Aramis pointed to the gate.

"Show us! Where is he?"

The trip back went faster than the trip there as the snow had already been cleared by more feet. Porthos pushed forward and cleared a swathe of his own as the girl directed them onwards. Finally they rounded the corner to a small alleyway and Aramis bolted forward at the sight of his friend.

Athos had not moved from where he had fallen and Aramis quickly reached inside his shirt to check for a pulse. He laid his hand across Athos' chest and felt the faint beat of his heart under his fingertips.

"He lives, but not for much longer if we do not warm him up."

Porthos reached over and hauled at Athos' cloak as Aramis made a quick check for any signs of blood or obvious injuries. He watched as Porthos and d'Artagnan worked together to place Athos across the horse before Porthos reached for the reins. He turned the animal as quickly as he could and pulled at the reins again to lead it back home. D'Artagnan walked on one side, trying to rub warmth into Athos' legs while Aramis did the same on the other side with his arms.

Tina debated leaving the men to their job, but something about the musketeer tugged at her. She needed to know the kind stranger would live. She settled for trailing along behind the horse and listened as the two men on either side kept up a running conversation with their unconscious friend.

By the time they made it back to the garrison a crowd of men had gathered awaiting their return. Treville stood by the gates and spotted them coming towards him. He ploughed his way through the snow and slush and reached Porthos before looking back at the body draped over the horse's back. He looked at Aramis who merely nodded at him, while still rubbing at Athos' arms and face.

Treville pointed across the yard as they entered the gates. "The scullery. It's the warmest place for him."

Aramis nodded in agreement and Porthos steered the horse towards the open door. Smells of bread and roasting meat wafted past them as the men carefully carried their precious cargo indoors. The ovens were stoked to capacity and Treville was right that it was the warmest place in the garrison. In their absence, a straw mattress had been dragged into the room and squashed into a corner as benches had been shoved aside to make room. Between them, Porthos and d'Artagnan carried Athos' limp form across to the makeshift bed and Aramis began to strip the cold and wet clothes from him.

Serge had bricks already heating in the oven and he grabbed at a cloth to snatch them out. Without discussion, he wrapped them in layers of cloth and handed them to Treville. The captain watched as Aramis settled himself against the wall and pulled Athos up against him. D'Artagnan pulled a blanket from somewhere and wrapped it firmly around Athos before laying his own cloak over the top. Treville gently pushed the heated bricks in under the edges of the blanket before leaning back on his haunches.

"What happened to him?"

Aramis shook his head and nodded towards the doorway. "No idea, but I think she may know."

Tina blushed as multiple men turned to look her way and she grasped at the door frame. She had no idea how they would react to the full story so she edited it.

"He came to my rescue last night and I fear that the men who sought me, later found him."

Aramis watched as tears welled in her eyes. She was still just a child and he wondered what Athos would have needed to rescue her from.

"He does have a sizable goose egg on the back of his head. I'm assuming he never saw that coming or there would have been another body in the snow."

D'Artagnan sat down helplessly on one of the benches and watched as Aramis continued to rub warmth back into Athos' arms while Porthos had both hands working vigorously along the length of Athos' legs. The man had not stirred at all, but his face at least was not quite as blue as it had been when they first found him. Moisture trickled from his hair and beard and d'Artagnan reached for a cloth to wipe it away. He slowly moved forward, never taking his eyes off the face in front of him. He had barely spoken a word since they had found Athos in the snow as he could not bear the thought of losing the man, so soon after losing his father. He stepped forward and refused to allow the idea to take root in his mind.

He did not register at first as Treville laid a hand on his shoulder.

"He is one of the strongest men I know. He will survive this."

D'Artagnan blinked and shook his head. He knelt down and reached out with the cloth before whispering, "He has to!"

It was almost an hour later that they noticed the first stirrings. Aramis noted it first as he felt Athos shift against his chest. He leaned in to speak and smiled as Athos grunted back at him.

"Easy there, my friend. You have been through quite a night."

Athos slowly opened his eyes and blinked as multiple worried faces greeted him. His nose prickled at the smell of roasting meat and he turned towards the ovens.

Something else registered in his tired mind and he slowly smiled.

"It's cold," he muttered.

"Yes, well spending the night sleeping in the snow will do that to you!"

He could hear the smile in Aramis' voice as he spoke from behind, but he knew that none of them could possibly understand his relief. The comment finally registered and he looked up again.

"The snow?"

"Yes. Apparently you decided to play knight-in-shining-armour and forgot your helmet! Next time, please remember to wear it."

Aramis grinned over his shoulder and Porthos tried to hide a smirk.

Athos tried to clear his head as best he could, but a nagging chill stuck to his skin. He searched the faces before him and finally fixed on one. Slowly he pulled a hand free of the blanket wrapped around him and he beckoned towards d'Artagnan.

As the young man knelt down in front of him, he reached out his hand and cupped the side of his face. Tears shone in his eyes as he leaned forward.

"You need to know something. I am truly sorry for not being here for you these last few days. I can only imagine what you have gone through with your first Christmas approaching since you lost your father."

D'Artagnan ducked his head and tried to keep a lid on his churning emotions, but Athos tugged gently at his face until he looked up again.

"I promise that I will always be here for you. You need only ask and I will come. No matter what you may think, you are _not_ alone!"

Aramis could feel Athos trembling with emotion and he slowly released him from his grasp as the man leaned forward.

"Do you understand me?" Athos reached out both hands to grasp d'Artagnan's face between them. "Do you?"

The urgency in his voice was apparent to all of them and d'Artagnan nodded at him.

"Please promise me that you understand. You are _not_ alone!"

"Athos, I know that. You have all been nothing but kind to me since I came here. I have found the best friends I could ever ask for."

Athos dropped his hand to grasp at d'Artagnan's wrist. "Please, promise me that you will never forget that."

"I promise! I promise you, Athos."

Finally satisfied that he had made his point, Athos leaned back against Aramis once more. His brother laid a hand around his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart under his fingers. The fact it ran a little faster than it should, made him smile, as it had been only too recent that it ran too slowly.

"Athos, are you feeling all right?"

"I am perfectly all right. After all, it is Christmas morning, is it not?"

"Thought you didn't like being around for Christmas," Porthos muttered towards the floor. He looked up to see Athos looking back at him, with a peculiar look on his face.

"That was last year, my friend. This year, I choose to be here."

D'Artagnan smiled as somebody handed Athos a cup of mulled wine and he raised it in the air before tipping it to his lips.

"I could get used to this Christmas thing."

* * *

><p><strong>I hadn't meant to make this so sad, but I know a couple of people who are grieving lost loved ones this year and another who is going through chemo. Christmas is my favourite time of year and yet I know so many who dread it. May this year bring hope and light and joy into your home and in some small way, may this story bring comfort and peace as we all reflect on those we love, whether they are near or far. Go and give somebody a hug, even if that somebody is furry and has a tail!<strong>

**In the words of Tiny Tim, God bless us, every one! Merry Christmas xx**


End file.
